Play The Game
by insanechayne
Summary: Headcanon: The boys play video games. Murphy is great at them; Connor sucks at them. Written for my bestie, Monica. Thanks for the idea, love.


**Play The Game**

When the MacManus brothers first found McGinty's Pub, Doc had an arcade game console set up in the back of the bar, next to where he displayed the wine shelves. It was a rusty old thing, outdated, for the most part, and was rarely ever played. The console was a Namco Gallery special, and had all the favorites: PacMan, Mrs. PacMan, Galaga, Dig Dug, Galaxian, Xevious, Tower of Druaga, Mappy, and Pole Position.

Connor didn't hate video games, per se, he just wasn't very good at them; he usually wouldn't play them because he knew he'd most likely lose and look like a fool. Card games were more his forte. Poker, Black Jack, Texas Hold 'Em, Gin Rummy, it didn't matter, he could beat pretty much anyone at all of them. He could even play the games reserved for kids, like Speed and Egyptian War, and beat his brother, and everyone else.

Murphy was the one who could take one quarter, put it in a game console, and play for half an hour or more while the others who eventually crowded around him sat fascinated at his skills. He always said that his favorite to play was Mrs. PacMan, but that he was best at Dig Dug; watching him, though, you could never tell which he was doing best at, since he dominated all of them.

When the twins first set foot in Doc's and laid eyes on the console Connor groaned and Murphy's face lit up in a smile filled with childish glee. Connor would almost have preferred leaving and finding some other bar to drink at, but the way Murphy's eyes practically begged him for "just one quarter, Connor, please" made him keep that suggestion to himself.

"What'll ye h-h-have, boyos?" Doc stuttered to them over the din of the other patrons at the bar, and Connor slipped Murphy a quarter before heading over to the bartender.

Doc was a nice man, older than everyone in the pub combined, but clearly with a lot of years left to live. His hair was white, but thick, and was styled neatly on his head, as if he were putting on an impressive front for the drunks in his place of business. Kind blue eyes peered through his wire-rimmed glasses that perched on the bridge of his nose.

"Two of yer cheapest beers, n' two shots o' whiskey, please." Connor smiled at Doc as he stood to the side of the bar. He ordered the drinks more for himself than for Murphy; once Murphy hit his gaming stride he'd only get one or two gulps of beer down before letting it go to waste. That was when Connor would snatch it up, to save the drink and make sure they didn't waste money, of course.

Doc watched Murphy flip through the game titles on the console as he set the drinks down in front of Connor. "The joystick on that don't wor-wor-w-w-wo – FUCK. ASS." Doc shook his head, his face slightly pink with his frustration at trying to force the word out.

Murphy actually turned away from the game, looking at the bartender with confused eyes, wondering what the problem was. Connor masked his surprise at the older man's outburst by taking a swig of the beer.

Doc held up his hand, as if he were going to wave at Murphy, to signal that there wasn't a problem. "It don't mo-move so well, son-sonny."

"Tha's alright. I'll take me chances with it." Murphy smirked as he turned back to the console. He rifled through the game selection twice before selecting Mrs. PacMan; no matter which games were on a console he always gravitated toward Mrs. PacMan first.

Connor dipped his chin to Doc, a thank you for the drinks, and placed his money on the countertop before grabbing the two bottles and glasses in his hands and making his way to where his brother stood. Luckily, the console was next to a padded bench, so Connor could perch there and watch his twin play while he inhaled one drink after another and got blind drunk.

Just as Murphy was about to put the quarter in the slot, Connor handed him one of the whiskey shots. "For good luck, brother."

Murphy took it with a grin, clinking the glass against Connor's before downing the drink in one quick swallow. He set the empty glass down on the bench next to Connor's thigh, slid the quarter into the machine, and gave a little dance at the game's intro music.

Connor settled on the bench in a position that was comfortable for his back, and still allowed him to watch Murph play. Connor enjoyed this more than actually playing the games himself; cheering his brother on and seeing how happy he was every time he passed another level was what Connor was suited for.

After roughly two and half levels the grin that had been on Murphy's face had disappeared completely, utter concentration taking its place. The pub was still filled with the raucous sounds of drunk men laughing and talking about nothing of importance, but Murphy heard none of it. The only think that registered to his brain were his brother's words of encouragement, and his whoops of joy whenever Murphy successfully completed a level.

Connor wondered why it was that Murphy won video games left and right, while he barely passed the first level without losing all his lives. Perhaps it was because Murphy could put his full attention into the sights and sounds of the game, lose himself in it, and shut out the rest of the world. Connor never had mastered that skill; he was always a little more observant that his twin, and that small extra made him hear and see everything, and blocking out the world, even if for a little while, made him edgy. Even in his sleep his subconscious was in tune with the outside world; maybe that was why he was a lighter sleeper than Murphy, too.

"Dammit." Murphy cursed under his breath, his voice so low that Connor barely heard him at all. When Connor looked at the screen his brother was on the fifth level and had only two lives left.

Connor couldn't help but marvel at how well Murph could play. Murphy could see the patterns in the games, the way the ghosts in PacMan and Mrs. PacMan moved in each round, the way the Pookies and Fygors maneuvered in the first minute or so of each level of Dig Dug, the way the alien ships flew and shot and darted this way and that in Galaga. Once Murphy could figure out their patterns he could counter it with one of his own, and he could avoid the enemies like the plague. It was actually kind of rare to see Murph lose a life, almost as if the monsters in the games purposely avoided him. Connor couldn't do any of that; all he knew was that the ghosts and the monsters and the aliens were coming at him and he had to haul ass away from them as fast as he could, but he was never quite fast enough.

By the time Murphy finally grumbled and stepped away from the console he had hit level twenty. Connor patted his twin on the back, mumbling condolences, and handed him the remains of a fourth bottle of beer. Murphy took it gratefully, downing the now warm liquid in two long swallows.

"You should play, Connor. The ghosts kinda lag on this console, so ye might be able ta clear a few levels." Murphy smiled at Connor, his eyes showing his sincerity.

Connor didn't particularly want to play any games, but he knew how much Murph enjoyed watching him play, too, so he grudgingly pulled another quarter from his pocket and dumped it into the machine. "Waste'v a quarter, Murph. Shoulda used it ta play another game yerself."

Murphy shook his head and stood beside his brother, leaning against the side of the console and watching eagerly as Connor tried to run away from the red ghost that was chasing him.

"Fucking hell." Connor murmured, moving his PacMan too soon and leaving a single dot behind on one of the bottom junctions.

It was too late to try and retrieve the dot now, seeing as how the orange ghost had floated over it and was coming after him once more. He made his way up the left side of the long line of dots, trying desperately to get to the larger blinking dot that would turn the ghosts into food. He was right there, his PacMan's mouth just about to eat it, when the pink ghost caught him.

"Stupid fuckin' ghost." Connor scowled angrily at the screen, gripping the joystick tighter in his hand.

Connor lost another life while still on level one, and immediately regretted letting his brother talk him into playing the damn game in the first place. When he finally did manage to clear the level he jumped around, hollering up a storm of celebration, and making Murph, Doc, and several of the other patrons laugh in the process.

After a while, Murphy convinced his brother to change out a few dollars into more quarters, and then persuaded Connor to play games with him on the two player setting. Doc ended up giving Murphy a free beer, because he was so impressed by his gameplays, and another to Connor, because he felt bad by how poor he was doing.

Eventually Connor was drunk and violent, and punched at the console every time he lost. Doc had to enlist Murphy to haul his brother out of the place before he wrecked the game system completely. Murphy dragged Connor home, letting him complain about the games the entire way there, then promptly dropped him into bed.

When the twins came back the next night the console was gone.


End file.
